


Library Visit

by Natterina



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 07:45:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4911130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natterina/pseuds/Natterina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fiona hides in the library, resisting the urge to seek out the Warden Alistair. She des not expect him to visit the library of his own accord.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Library Visit

Fiona does not leave the library when the Inquisitor returns with Hawke and her Warden friend.

She hears the whispers long before their arrival, hears and feels the awe in the voices of her mages when they tell that it is  _the_ Warden Alistair, but when Skyhold opens her gates to them Fiona does not even look out the window. She leans over the banister, closing her eyes and blocking out the sounds of the hurried surprise as people rush to greet Lavellan, and the spymaster watches her closely one level up. _  
_

Fiona cannot bring herself to be concerned about Leliana: anyone who knew the secret is long dead.

An uneasy feeling settles in her stomach, and the old pain lights up her blood like a flame to parchment. It is the pain of a quiet moonless night, a chilling wind cutting through the trees as Fiona is half dragged from Denerim by Duncan, heartbroken and full of regret but  _knowing_ it was the only way. It is the first night of sleep undisturbed by the piercing cry of her baby boy, a maternal love gripping her heart that she must push away.

Her heart feels not much different to that night: Fiona wishes to find him, to seek him out wherever he is in Skyhold, but she cannot and will not do such a thing to him now. Part of her hopes Maric had told him the truth, but she knows in her heart it is not so.

Her mages become worried: Fiona will not leave the library unless she absolutely has to. She spends her days reading constantly, anything to take her mind off the instinct to  _go_ to him, to see her son for the first time in decades. When she does not read she paces, attracting the curious look of the Tevinter, wringing her hands with sharp nails as she begs the ache to  _leave_.

It is a surprise then, when he comes to her.

It is not intentional of course, for Alistair has no idea who she is, but of the three standing on the library level when he arrives she is the least intimidating as she stands with a book in her hand and an apple in the other. She almost drops both when he taps her on the shoulder gently and she turns to see his face.

If the awkward  _hello_ is due to her horrified look or simply his own personality, Fiona doesn’t know, but she imagines she looks quite the sight as she stares at his face. He is talking, trying to ask her a question, but all she can do is map the lines of his face to memory. It hits her with all the force of an axe blow, sharp and heavy as she looks at  _her son._ He is healthy and alive and looks so very much like his father, and she sees the band on his finger and wants to weep with joy and despair.

She has missed so much of his life, and she can never even ask him about it lest he become suspicious.

Fiona tunes back to reality as Alistair asks her the question again, his brows furrowed in confusion. He wants the history section, and she curses the Maker that it’s the section  _she’s_ standing in. Alistair gives her an awkward thank you and moves past her, briefly explaining he is trying to look for any useful information he can pass on to his wife.

Leaning over the banister with her arms hugging her torso, she wonders if she would have ever left him with Maric had she known it would feel like this so many years later. Yet there is a part of her, deep in her heart, that knows her actions would never change. She had known it was the right choice; Fiona cannot afford to spend her days regretting her actions.

When he goes to leave, with several books under his arms, he gives her a bright grin of thanks and asks her name. There is no recognition when she gives it, no indicator that someone told him over the years.

“Are you happy?” It blurts out before she can stop it, the one question she  _needs_ an answer to. Alistair frowns.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that? My wife is not as intimidating as the tales are telling you, believe me.” When Fiona doesn’t speak, he sighs and continues. “Yes, I am happy. I’m the happiest I have ever been. I miss her dearly.” And though he is confused, Alistair doesn’t pry when her eyes go teary and she thanks him. He smiles, genuinely, and then he leaves for the staircase and Fiona cannot watch him go. The nightingale above watches her curiously, but Fiona pays her no heed.

There is a satisfaction that settles in her bones, calms the worries she had held about her son and his life. She is at peace: leaving him was the right thing to do, no matter how tightly it pulls at her heartstrings, at the mother’s love she had locked away in her chest.

The peace does not last.

The report comes in from Adamant, a week ahead of the Inquisitor’s arrival. By now Fiona has moved to the top floor of the new Mage’s Tower in Skyhold, if only for a few days whilst she tries her own research on her untainted blood. Lavellan brings the news to her herself, at the request of a curious –but unaware- Leliana.

The report claws at her throat, weakens her knees and compresses her chest and heart so tightly that her breaths become ragged and weak once the Inquisitor is out of sight.

The Grey Warden Alistair, left behind in the fade to save the small party. Her son is dead.

Fiona weeps for days. 


End file.
